


Parallel Universe

by Sofacarrot



Category: Digimon - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Gen, Mild Blood, Parallel Universes, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22824694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sofacarrot/pseuds/Sofacarrot
Summary: Stranded on the world similar yet different, the boy with a strange Digivice must adapt to the new environment whose inhabitants so similar yet so different than those in the world he lived in.
Relationships: Original Character(s) & Original Character(s)





	1. Carcasses

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter will be the first half of the first chapter of the story, with the second half more action-focus. I want to see if the writing style and the ideas here are good or not before continuing. I hope you can give some opinion, and I accept any form of criticism from you guys.

Today, he will die.

His thought continued to supply words and sentences for how wrong his day going to be as Takara stared at the breakfast presented in front of him. A bowl of Oyakodon, a cup of miso soup, a cup of coffee freshly made. It fueled his mind with anxious, worried and unneeded questions. The answers his brain provided did nothing but fueling his growing anxiety.

Takara sat down, eyes looked upon the food with wariness as he picked up the chopsticks. He has no grudge against homemade food. Devouring fast food and half-decent coffee for these past few months have cost him his taste in food, to the point an expired onigiri would be a welcome change. So at the moment, food was Takara's greatest asset and ally. He needs more nutrition if he wants to continue with his duty. It the who that cooked the food is what wary him.

A note was tucked under the soup bowl. Takara took it, mouth chewing slowly to savour the shockingly delicious taste, and read it. The hand-writing was neat, Takara noted. Errors here and there, but few and unnoticeable when skimming over. The note was from his son, confirming his thought, both of whom did the job, and the event that will transpire today.

' _Damn the kid!'_ Takara scowled in his thought, _'and his unforeseen talent! I will have to scrap the plan for the evening, then.'._ Takara put the dishes into the sink and walked out of his house, feeling instantly nausea as the stench of carcasses filled the air. Mice, bugs, fishes, cats, dogs, birds. Animals without a home or stray from its owner now lay dead on the street. The bodies looked like they had been drunk off all the fluid inside. Garbage trucks after another drove by, carrying carcasses that soon will be disposed of, either by burning or shredding, he doesn't know much. Stands of medical mask sat on the street, a giveaway to civilians in hope of stopping people from being infected and infecting others.

"Busy day, huh?" Takara asked the young volunteer.

"Compared to school, officer, this isn't what I would call busy." the volunteer answered blandly. "What do you need?".

"Can't an officer worry about the people's well-being?" Takara questioned. He frowns at the fake gasp from the volunteer, followed by a small chuckle.

"Officer Ariyama, everybody on this south knows your son." the volunteer replied. "That means everybody on this south knows you, and half of the population aren't as ignorance with recent events as you think.".

"But first, please stand aside. Others need the mask, officer." the volunteer requested. He nodded, walking next to the stand and watching the sky, clean and clear as it had always been. The volunteer called out to her friend, who was leaning against the fence, a cigar in his mouth, asking the young man to cover for her. The volunteers are students, he noticed, though it is rare to find one with even a minuscule ounce of commitment to their job.

"Now, second, nobody knows when or how this 'catastrophe' happened, officer, so don't bother to question me or anyone else. Most of the sources I gathered were from speculations and theories, and where those came from won't provide any noteworthy pieces of evidence or leads Starting from the ground up is the most viable option for your department, officer Ariyama." the volunteer spoke before he could utter any words.

"What about similarities?" Takara asked, wanting to gather as much information as he can, disregarding the unreliability of the answers. "Those are speculations and theories, as you have mentioned, but speculations and theories existed based on already established ideas or concepts, or else it won't be relevant for long."

"You do earn your title, officer." the young volunteer replied, a surprised look on her face. "I can recount the necessary details for your station to work with, but put a big 'if' in there, got it?" Takara nodded, a note and a pen in his hand, ready to write down what the volunteer going to say.

"Your years of experience should already tell you of the cause of the carcasses. The speculations only focused on the period, at which time from what hour to what hour does this massacre happen. All of them agreed upon the time past midnight was the possible period when the incident happened. Disagreement arises, however, but it's inane at best.".

"The theories, on the other hand, focused on the cause of the lack of fluid inside the bodies; the culprit - which all targeted animals, and whether the government or any chemical-lead companies had their hand in the matter." the young volunteer said.

"What, who and when, huh?" Takara mumbled, his notes continued to be filled with words, details with information that was a necessity for the new challenge his subordinates were going to face. "I'm surprised you decided to assist us in this case, seeing the other half of this south didn't acknowledge much of our commitment to our job."

"I did say I am not the ignorant half, didn't I?" the young volunteer asked. "A kid wishes. I like when things were tamed and boring and predictable, when what on my mind isn't whether the next day will be the last. Having a middle-age man rambling about the authority incompetency day to night to day, meanwhile he violent against his girl without any sympathy or pity. Far from my ideal mundane life."

The young volunteer was rubbing her belly in a soothing motion, Takara noticed, and it continued despite how silence joined their conversation. The girl looked on toward the only high-rise building on this street, her eyes eerily vacant. Her hand gripped the fabric of her shirt tightly as her eyes widened before it lowered into the neutral look. And it dawned on Takara what the volunteer remembered.

"What's school are you in, miss?" Takara questioned, the note put in his pocket as he glanced at the girl.

"I'm that old already, huh?" the young volunteer mumbled. Takara bit his lip, pitying the girl in front of him.

"I quit." the girl speaks, a bland expression shows clearer on her face. "My dad objects my decision. Hours were spent hearing his lecture of how disappointed I am to throw away such _'rare opportunity'_! What does that fucker know, laying at home all the time? School isn't going to teach us the necessary lesson for the real world, so why should I listen to gray-hair adults yammering about stuff most of us going to forget anyway? Don't you agree, officer?" the girl turns her head to him. He looked down at the ground, too ashamed of himself to even stare upon those eyes, whose emotion he already imagined in his mind.

After saying his farewell, Takara found himself jogging through the street, mumbling. He was making a promise, to finish the case and bring back the mundane life he used to hate. And for the girl he never asked for the name.

Takara's trip to the station was uneventful. Trucks drive through the city with carcasses of animals in its container, while adults and children and teenagers all return to their daily activities. The shock of the corpses is now the topics few were interested in and even fewer discussed. The station was crowed, much to his dismay, with civilians grouped to carp their complaints to Hayami. Glares and whispers were sent to him whenever he walks by, venomous and cold in tone, words that aim to discourage and humiliate him.

Takara closes the door of his room before he leans against it, a heavy breath escapes his mouth as he rubs the back of his neck. The window was closed, which he is thankful for, but the smell of putrid flesh is still thick in the room. The mask he received was futile in blocking his nose from inhaling the scent. The whiteboard still occupied itself at the corner, blue and black marks of his last written remained. Drawing of circles and lines can be seen despite his hazy vision, the consequence of his stubbornness in denying the purchasing of a new air conditioner, and the headache accompanied whenever the heat rises past his limit. However, the notes that stick at the edge of the board catch his eyes, and twisted his gut. A reminder of the words he spoke, and the actions he acted upon.

Takara grabs the board and pulls it toward the center. Varied pictures of men and women and children pinned with the oldest at top and the young bottom, all connect through lines and small words signified each relationship with the other. At the upper left corner, written in red and as sizable as an apple, was the name of the household whose presence can ignite a skirmish. Whose house Takara and Wara had been keeping tabs on long before his predecessor gave up his position. Takara takes down the pictures one at a time, frowning upon the image of a middle-aged woman, a pair of hirauchi kanzashi pinned on the woman's head, before he picks up the eraser and swipes the whole board.

 _'The incident happened post-midnight.'_ Takara thought as he takes out the note. _'Lack of any blood or fluid material in the body is the main cause, but further examination is required for more concrete evidence. Wonder if anyone is willing to obtain some?'_

_'Two holes, each three diameters wide, on the neck of the corpses without any traces of a stain on it, so the animal is out of suspicion. Syringe-like tools and equipment are next, and they are the most likely to cause this kind of damage. Chemical and medical companies have the capability to conduct these, and put on the assumption that the area of the incident only occurred around the ward, narrow down the list of facilities that appeared around and inside Sumida are plausible.'_

_'But beyond that! Nothing.'_ Takara rubs his eyes, a deep sigh escape through his mouth. _'Even if the news actually provides accurate information on the proximity of the incident, that still leaves me with the reason and the precise location for us to investigate. And I doubt anyone - '_

"Boss!" Wara yells out at him, causing Takara to jump while looking at his subordinates with narrow eyes. The young man laughs hysterically, the playful grin pasted on his pale face. The laughing soon died down to chuckling, though the hysterical tone remains in the young man's voice.

"Entertaining yourself, Kitsu?" Takara mumbled as he rubbing his shoulder, the stiffness can be felt throughout his body.

"You can't blame me for wanting some time-killing activities, boss. Besides, you haven't had your lunch and here is the report of the examination of the corpses." Wara answered, pulling up in one hand a bag whose scent brings reminiscence to onigiri, seven pieces covered in plastic box each. The other gripped an orange-like color folder, written on the cover the time of conducting and finishing the examination and what inside will undoubtedly lead him one step closer to solving this new case. Or one step farther.

"Pretty early for you to come today," Takara noted, snatching the folder from the young man's grip. "The dose yesternight knocked you to the point the I've to paid for your treat, Wara, so what caused you out of bed so early in the morning?" The young man raises his eyebrow as he put the onigiri's box on the table, before leaning against the wall and looking upon the clock he borrows a year ago. The clock that read 1:45.

"I have personally interrogated every personnel at this facility, boss!" Wara yell, eyes glaring at his wrist with the childish grin visible on the face. "And I have come to the conclusion that four hours have passed since you last rested, and as your subordinate, I hereby command you to eat this onigiri and sleep a deep sleep of thirty minutes."

"And no excuse!" Wara warned, shoving the box before occupying the opposite seat. Takara gives out a big sigh before he takes the onigiri and eats it. The state of the room, Takara notice, is flooded with papers and notes he may have thrown away during the period of working and thinking. The stench of cigars overwhelms the smell of carcasses, which is indicated by the mountains of cigarettes at each corner of the room. The whiteboard now stands near the window, containing a detailed map of Sumida ward. Circles are drawn at the ward's northern, north-east and south-west, surrounding renowned medical, chemical facilities and distributors. All of these places are ones that either have enacted suspicious activities or contained machinery possible to conducted experiments on those animals in a wide-range and with questionable ethics. Base on the amount of paper Takara pinned there, his research hasn't gather any fruits yet.

"Where's my computer?" Takara asked, looked around the room for his admittedly-dated-but-usable computer.

"Next to your desk." Wara answered, pointing to his right, the handful of rice inside his mouth makes it barely audible. "Hana is the one perform the cleaning yesterday, and we can guess what she had done to finish her job, boss." Takara snickered at the scene before grabbing the computer and put it on the table. An iMac G3. The computer he had been using since the dawn of this decade, first accepted out of pity for his subordinates and soon becoming the most important part of his work-life. The thing was outdated, he admitted this to Wara before, and the cost to maintain it to a workable state brought him no less headache. The computer had assisted him more than he could ask of anyone else, and until his hair turns gray and the next chief sits on this chair, he's not going to replace this computer for another one.

"You seem pretty fond of that thing." Wara speaks, brown eyebrow quirked as Takara loosened the knot of the cables.

"It's workable, despite the appearance, and the information available on the net means I don't have to interrogate many of the ward citizens." Takara answered, chuckling deeply while he plugs in the cable and turns on the computer.

"Being interrogate by you isn't that tiresome, consider the trade-off is being able to converse with you which never dulls even the slightest. Besides, aren't most of your subjects those you already caught?" Wara speaks, the tone smaller than before. Calmer, Takara notice.

"Maybe not today, Kitsu." Takara asks, somber in the name he spoke. Wara chuckled lightly before he speaks, eyes diverted to the board and the notes stick at the corner. "Just remember that nothing is ever absolute, an action that happens is always followed by a reason, boss." Takara bit his lip, his one hand typing on the keyboard and the other writing down the information he deems important, while his mind replays the short conversation he and his subordinate just had, contemplating the quote.

The sound of Takara's phone distracted both of them from their thoughts. Blinking, Takara reaches out for the phone and presses it to his ear.

"Ariyama-san!", a high-pitch voice, scared and desperate, called out his name. One of Takeo's classmates, he remembers, and a regular companion of Zenko who is competing with his son for the most rebellious kid in the school, and one of the causes of his headache.

"Tamaki, calm down! What's the problem?" Takara asked, sending a wary look to Wara as the young man moved quietly to the phone, his ear an inch away from touching it.

"A monster. A monster ... come to our school ... our class. It ... it killed our teacher ... Noya-sensei ... Oshiro-sensei ... and even the students. They ... they ...", the sound of weak sob cause Takara's grip on the phone to be tightened, his eyes looked upon Wara's before the young man remove himself from the phone and run for the door. His steps were halted by the sound of metal being torn apart and the hitched of breath came from Tamaki. Wara rushes out of the room and called for two of his co-workers as Wara was trying to sooth Tamaki, unable to realize the girl's grip on the phone is long gone. Instead, Tamaki's grip was on the vines that were binding her, ceasing her from screaming out, keep her from thrashing, and forcing her to stare at two bottomless holes on it moss-like fur.

The creature stands there as minutes went by, its grip on her neither tighten nor loosen. The lack of eyes makes it impossible for her or any of the students to known whether the creature can hear them or not, and the lack of movement on its grotesque limbs unnerve everyone, even those not close to it. Its body was that of a woman, with green color covering from head to toes and scent of snapdragons fly throughout the hallway. The sudden move of the vines alarmed Tamaki and caused her to look at the creature with fear and anxiety.

"Shame for him to be late again, though I shouldn't be the one to say that." The creature's voice sends the coldness across her spine. Hoarse and shrill, yet calm in its ways of speaking, the creature voiced its words without hinting toward any other feelings except for peaceful. "A year had passed, and though our bond will never be what I desire, I was entertained nonetheless. My gratitude, Tamaki." Her eyes widen at the mention of her name before her vision was filled with the color of olive-drab.

The color of ash wood was the color her eyes were looking upon. The crevices that separate the wooden planks bewildered Tamaki and the scent of dirt linger on her nose. The silence caught the attention of her ears and herself, the ticklish feeling around her waist and the shadow that cast across the floor leading her to look upon another monster, one that had rescued her from death.

The bat-like creature lowered Tamaki down on the floor with speed as of snail. The wing on its back shields them from the creature, despite the material reminding Tamaki more of silk than anything else, and the ears twitching at every breath of the students. Once her foot touches the ground and her body inclined diagonally, the bat-like creature loosens the grip and Tamaki takes the chance to dash forward the group in front of her.

"Dearly forgive the predicament. However, entertain him I must, or else the consequence you already know and have experienced, _Takeo_." the moss creature speaks the name with mocking amusement as if the name brings entertainment more than the bodies that lie in the room. The thought brings shiver upon Reika's body.

"True." The voice's low, yet the emanating anger is unmistakable in the words he spoke. "But is the blood and tears his entertainment, or yours?" The creature shrugs its shoulders, the edge of its mouth curve upward.

"Idiotic of me to be reasoning with you. History, we have, and the image of you being normal are truly a wish unfulfilled. With it, I'll ask you the final question. Are you willing to be stained with blood of friends to protect strangers?"

The sound of a body crashing into the ground diverted everyone's attention to the school-ground below, none save Reika paying attention to the crumbling wall, the shattering glass and the silhouette enshrouded in dust. Standing before her isn't the creature cover in moss and vines, but Takeo whose eye were glaring down toward the ground. Whose presence prickles her skin, freezes her lungs, and cause her heart to aches. Whose words were spoken without hesitation nor regret. Whose words terrified her to the bone.

"I am.".


	2. Breakfast and Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenzon wakes up from the nightmare that still haunted him, about the moment before the gunshot through his eyes. Awake from the haunting image, Kenzon changes his clothes and cooked breakfast for Takara, while Kenzon served himself a sandwich

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter serves as a snippet for events happen leading up to the end of the previous chapter, with two or more future chapters serves as a lead up to the end of the last chapter.

_The town is red, yet the cloud is white._

_One reminds him the blood that always dribbles through his hand and fingers. One reminds him of the past he regrets to have of forgotten. Neither was the signs that remind him of the place he lost his dearest friend. Nor the skyscraper where his family always came and gone, now in ruin; the corpses of those he killed and vanquished with his family and the corpses of those they failed to save._

_It was the ripped leather jacket he's wearing, the hide vest underneath it and on top the no-color shirt of the west. It was the ink-like pant he's wearing, one side holding the doubles shotgun, one holding the knife he and his ancestor never used. It was the old Homburg hat his friend always kept ever since the first time they met. It was the set of clothes Kenzon wearing that reminds him of where he is at the moment, of why the town is red yet the cloud is white; of why bodies with lifelike eyes staring at him, of why skyscraper and apartment and school are the only places turned to rubble. It was the town from old memories and the memories of better day and awful times that remind of why Kenzon is hovering in the sky. It was the red and white that helped Kenzon to recognize a child with charred skin, lying belly-down atop a creature of skull for face and crow for body with blanched teeth grinning at him. It was the head of the revolver, holding an inch away from his eye that reminds Kenzon of the word that was spoken. A cheerful and childlike voice echoes through the space._

_" **Bang!!!** "_

The first sound that his ears heard is the heaving of his breath echoes through the room. The second is the steady breath of Gotsumon, lying next to him with his back facing Kenzon. Its golden eyes glancing at him every few minutes. Both lying where they are, neither know how or wanted to greet the stranger next to them, both are contempt with the awkward silence stretching between them. For Gotsumon, it the uncanny similarity between Kenzon and its partner, its brother-of-sort, that kept him silence. For Kenzon, its the reminder of those he had left behind whenever he saw Gotsumon.

Soon, the alarm force both to rise out of their nest. Stiff waving of the hand, faint voices saying their greeting for the morning as Gotsumon exits the room. Kenzon bit his lip, arm leaning toward the doorknob before moving it to his side and walking to the wardrobe. The clothes are more expensive than those he had, though Kenzon himself was never a fashion person compare to Enma.

"Find it!" Kenzon mumbled as he reaches toward the set of clothes laying by itself behind an array of t-shirts and pants. Wrinkles can be spotted in many places of the white shirt and grey pants, in contrast to the groomed school jacket at the bottom of the set. The back of the shirt has stitches and transparent tape, and Kenzon has none of the desire to look at the pants. Once he asked to borrow the clothing, he donned it on, taking the bag on the table before exiting the room.

The hallway is quiet. Eerily so. Aside from the light snore of Takara-san and the humming of Gotsumon in the kitchen-and-living room, his bandage ear picked up no other sound. His room was at the end of the hallway, Takara's was on Kenzon's left and the bathroom right. The kitchen-and-living room at Takara's left, accommodate its were a television, a cupboard, a fridge, a drawer, a set of table and chairs; a microwave, a cooker, a toaster and a coffee maker. He bit his lip, again, before walking to the opposite side of Gotsumon.

"Hi. Again."

"Morning." Gotsumon answered as he tapped his rocky finger on the table. The sound was light in the air. "There are toasts over there. Meats and vegetables in the refrigerator, if you ... want to have something for yourself. The coffee maker is off-limits, I'm sorry. Takara-san seems to be ... _mildly_ annoyed, when someone uses the coffee maker, but **_without_** permission. So if you asked him I positively sure he will allow. I think so. There is a television with many channels for you to watch if you-"

"I appreciate your concern, Gotsumon, and also the hospitality. I don't drink coffee or like the taste of it, so I think Takara-san won't notice if someone used it. For the food and television, and the bedroom for that matter, I will stay at your home for quite some time." Kenzon rubbed his neck as he diverted his eyes to his hands. One with scars, the other wrapped in bandages. The scarred has smaller ones spread all over the skin, with two long gashes start in the middle of his palm and ran to his shoulder. The calm voice pulled Kenzon's attention to Gotsumon. "For how long?"

Kenzon bit his lip. A long sigh was interrupted by the alarm of the toaster. "Years. Maybe decades."

Gotsumon, with his head bowed and hand slowly slipping from the table, said sadly. "Oh." Kenzon gave him a sympathetic smile before he walked over to the fridge. Inside were filled with, as Gotsumon had stated, meats and vegetables and fish and fruits and milk. No beers. No beers were in sight. He asked Gotsumon if he wants something for breakfast, in which the bear denied. Though the grumble from his belly said otherwise. Somehow.

Ham, eggs slices, lettuce and tomatoes. Satisfied with the ingredients he had, Kenzon takes the crisp toasts and cut the ham and tomato into slices, takes a piece of salad and put all together before serving it to Gotsumon. The bear looked at the plate, jaw gaping slightly as he touches the sandwich like it's something foreign. _'It could be!'_ Kenzon thought as he returns to the counter. He repeated the same process, though his hasn't been heated nor did he it want to be, before returning to his seat. The sandwich remains untouched. As he finished his and walked over to the sink, as he takes out more ingredients from the fridge and put it on the counter, as he lay the bowl and cups on the table, including a cup of coffee made from the divine coffee machine; the sandwich remains untouched.

Sighing, Kenzon walked next to Gotsumon, his hand gripped the plate. "I will put this in the fridge. If you're hungry, just use the oven. Just don't throw it away, okay? I will checks it." Gotsumon stared at the wall on the opposite, or maybe the air, before nodded. He then returns to his room.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy the story. Pretty sure it will take quite a time to get readers, so for every person that reads this once I upload it, I very much appreciate it for you to take your time. For the next chapter, the story may revolve around the school and what happened before Tamaki called Takara. The final one will be an action scene between Takeo and the monster.
> 
> Again, much appreciation for those that read this story and hope you enjoy it.


End file.
